


A Little Warmth

by dudesbeinggay



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drag Queens, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, draghaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudesbeinggay/pseuds/dudesbeinggay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James has been performing as "Deb" for a long time, and Bruce has finally come to love Deb, too. When shit hits the fan, Bruce has the opportunity to prove to the other queens that he can take good care of her (and him).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> 2.8k of Bruce/Deb and Bruce/James hurt/comfort, with appearances by the rest of the guys n’ gals. (title from Unbelievers by Vampire Weekend). credit to egocentrifuge on tumblr for the au idea!
> 
> IMPORTANT: There isn't actually any rape, but one of the characters is drugged and put in a potentially dangerous situation. ALSO in real life if you suspect/know anyone has been "roofied" (rohypnol or any date-rape drug) you should take them to a hospital for sure.

It was so hot, backstage, before she went on, and when a hand shot out with a bottle of water she didn’t think twice about drinking it, assuming it was from Lady Larr or Mary or Madam. 

She’d regret that, later.

* * *

Bruce knew something was wrong the second Deb fell. She’d tripped clumsily on stage as she was finishing her routine - but not in the cute way she’d do where she’d spin sassily afterward. After she’d fallen she’d quickly said goodbye to the audience and he thought he’d heard a slur in her voice. 

Bruce was standing before he knew it. His hands twitched nervously, and he forced himself to sit back down, even as the bad feeling in his stomach grew. Backstage had always been ‘their space’ in his head and he figured the ladies knew how to take care of themselves and he was just worrying too much. 

When he sat, he and Matt shared a look, and Bruce thought Matt understood his concern. 

The smaller man nodded at Bruce as he settled back in his seat. “You’re doing the right thing. Let them handle it.” 

They both looked up when Regina appeared at the edge of the crowd about fifteen minutes later, in the middle of the next performance. She gestured Bruce over quickly with a hand, eyes wide behind big pink lashes. 

“What’s-” Bruce couldn’t get a word out before he was being grabbed by the much smaller Reg and dragged towards what he assumed was backstage. 

“What’s going on?” He said as he half-jogged to keep up with her.

“We don’t know!” Regina squeaked, and Bruce couldn’t help the nauseau that churned his stomach or the sudden faster beating of his heart. 

In a minute they were in the hallway backstage, and their were so many queens around Bruce couldn’t see anything. 

Little Reg put her foot down - literally, stomped a chunky combat boot down - and yelped. “Ladies! Get out of the way, her man’s here!" 

Immediately all the heads, most of which he recognized, turned to him. It was a sea of bright wigs and dark eyes, and he searched out a face he knew. 

"C'mon honey,” Lady Larr’s hand shot out from the crowd and pulled Bruce through as the other Queens backed up to make space. 

The sideroom he was pulled into looked like one out of a movie, all red velvet and mood lighting. His eyes were immediately drawn to the figure on the settee, long, built legs and trash fishnets easily recognizable. 

Queen Mary was crouched next to Deb’s supine form. When Bruce dropped to his knees next to her, Mary turned to him, but Bruce couldn’t take his eyes off his girl.

“Bruce, good, you’re here-” Mary started, but Bruce was reaching for Deb’s hand. A light sheen of sweat was visible on Deb’s face as her head rolled lethargically, and Bruce could see the lack of clarity in her normally sharp-as-ice eyes. 

Mary put her hand on Bruce’s shoulder to get his attention, speaking quietly out of respect. He glanced at her, nodding to indicate that he was paying attention now, regardless of the fear that was a tornado throughout his entire body. 

“It looks like she was drugged,” Mary said, and Bruce couldn’t help it when he squeezed both hands, including the one holding Deb’s, in response. 

He wanted to be angry - but the anger was slow-building and his concern for Deb, who hadn’t said a word yet, was overriding his urge to go take out whoever had done that to his baby. 

“We don’t know who,” Mary said, and she shut her eyes in frustration. These were her girls to protect and Mary couldn’t believe she’d let this happen. 

“Baby?” Bruce asked when he noticed Deb blinking some of the fog out of her eyes and attempting to meet Bruce’s.

“Bruce,” she said airily, and Bruce resisted the urge to gather her up in his arms and never let go. 

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?" 

"D-d…” she started before trailing off as her eyes fell closed. 

“Deb!” Bruce and Mary shouted at once, and thank god, her eyes popped open again. 

Her eyes quickly became reflective with unshed tears. 

“Wanna go home,” Deb whined, and Mary’s hand shot up to pet her hair.

“You will, honey,” Mary said, voice soft as a feather, and suddenly Bruce felt out-of-place and incapable of helping, big rough hands incomparable with the soft, tender touches of the queens. 

“Bruce is gonna take care of you- right, Bruce?” Mary asked, and there was no mistaking the fire burning in her eyes. Bruce shook off whatever feeling of inadequacy had just overtaken him and nodded. This was his chance to step up and show the Queens he was enough - better than enough - for someone like Deb. 

“You wanna go right now, baby?” Bruce asked, watching Deb’s face carefully. 

She nodded without opening her eyes, and Bruce noticed the rhinestones on her face reflecting the light with mixed emotions. 

Bruce stood up, unsure of how to help. Mary put a hand on Deb’s back to help, but she was aggressively waved off. Bruce wrung his hands together as Deb sat up with uncoordinated motions. 

“My stuff-” she breathed out, waving a hand at nothing in particularly. 

Lady Larr, who Bruce had forgotten was standing there entirely, called out, “I got it, Deb, don’t worry,” before spinning on her heel and leaving the room. 

“C'mon,” Bruce urged, offering his hands to Deb. 

She shook her head but quickly grabbed his hands as her standing motion almost became a fall forward. Once standing her movements were careful as she stepped away from Bruce, hands out for balance. 

“Jus’ lemme try,” Deb said, and Bruce nodded but refused to be more than a foot or two away from her. Deb took a step forward and it looked like her knee would buckle but it held steady and she took another shaky step on too-high heels. 

“Go, we’ll bring her stuff,” Mary said quietly behind Bruce, gesturing him out, before stomping ahead and slipping back into her persona. 

“Get out of the way ladies! Queen and her man coming through!" 

By the time Deb made it out to the hall with little steps, Bruce trailing right behind her, the hallway was clear, for which they were both endlessly grateful. 

"Are you sure-” Bruce started, and Deb’s head whipped around, fixing Bruce with a glare stronger than he’d thought she’d be able to muster, to be honest. 

“Okay, okay,” he said, almost smiling because at least she could be herself, even if she was drugged. 

He felt a tap on the shoulder and spun, having to look up to meet Madam Nodick’s eyes. “Here’s her stuff,” that deep rumble was filled with heart. “Take care of her, Bruce,” Madam said, and Bruce saw the concern - and threat - in her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, Madam, I got it-" 

"Bruce!” James’s voice echoed from closer to the exit, and the audible distress squeezed Bruce’s heart. 

“Go,” Madam ordered, nodding, and Bruce spun and jogged out, swinging Deb’s backpack over his shoulder. 

“Deb?" 

As he came to the exit door he spotted her, leaning against the wall for support with her eyes squeezed shut. Bruce gave in to the urge to just put his hands on her, holding her steady with two hands at her waist, thumbs pressing into her hip bones. 

"Baby?" 

Deb let her head fall forward onto Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce’s arms quickly came up around her in a hug. He felt her take a shuddering breath against him, and he kept his hold secure. 

"I hate this,” she said, sounding a lot more like James than Deb. 

Bruce pulled back, looking grave. “Ready to go?" 

Deb gave him a sad nod in return, pressing her face back into Bruce’s chest. 

"Do you want to walk or should I-" 

"Wanna walk,” Deb said. She’d explain later that in her drug-addled mind she’d wanted to show whoever had slipped her the drugs that hah, fuck you, you can’t make me weak. 

Bruce was gentle as he took her delicate hand, and used his other arm to hold her around her waist. He held her carefully, and the pleather bustier she wore was tacky under his fingers. 

Bruce took most of her weight as they exited, and he walked them quickly to his car - they could come back for her bike later. He leaned down and opened the passenger door without letting go, depositing Deb gingerly in the front passenger seat. He gave into the urge and brushed a kiss against her cheek before standing up to circle over to the driver’s side. 

Deb was pretty out of it just then, but her hand came up slowly to touch where his lips had been, smiling slightly at how gentle, caring, he was being - only a few months ago, he was unwilling to even discuss her drag persona. 

* * *

L - 11:48PM |  _Is she okay?_  
B - 11:51PM |  _Yeah, just gonna take some time to wear off._

That was his fourth separate conversation with one of the ladies from the club, all of whom were (understandably) concerned about their friend Debranair. 

She’d been in and out of it on the way home and the fact that she allowed Bruce to carry her up to his apartment in a princess hold spoke to her fatigue. 

“Ugh!” At the frustrated grown from the bathroom, Bruce rejoined his partner. 

He’d never been part of the transformation to or from Deb, and he hadn’t wanted to take away more of her control or privacy. 

“What-” He stopped as he watched Deb violently throw a wipe a the sink from the chair she’d dragged from the kitchen into the bathroom. 

She spun to face him, makeup only slightly removed, her missing wig the only change from earlier. “I can’t do this,” she said, except she sounded-

“James?” 

Deb-James nodded. He held out shaking hands, which Bruce instinctively grabbed. “I guess it’s the-the drug, but I can’t-” James let out a half-sob and his head fell against Bruce’s shoulder. 

“Can I help?” Bruce asked, knowing that he didn’t have the first idea about how to help, but he’d be an ass not to. 

James pulled away and nodded. 

“Okay, show me what to do.” 

Bruce’s motions were tender as he helped first remove Deb-James’s makeup, clumsy as he unstuck the rhinestones with blunt nails and careful when he pulled the bustier over James’s head. Just then James started to fade out, eyes closing, and Bruce swallowed at the idea of undressing James when he’d literally been roofied. 

“’s okay,” he slurred out, petting Bruce’s shoulder clumsily. “Jus’ ge’ me out of this." 

Bruce shrugged and used whatever strength he could (because Deb may have been dainty but James was not light-as-a-feather by any means) to hold her fairly upright as he pulled off her tights and unzipped her skirt. 

Bruce was struck by the image of his boyfriend sitting in just his underwear, shivering from the cold, on the toilet seat, and the urge from earlier to go punch the living daylights out of whoever had done this crept back. 

"Do you wanna shower?" 

James nodded and met Bruce’s eyes, and Bruce finally got to see the familiar bright blue there, however dulled it might be. 

"Not alone,” James said as he stood on shaky legs and pulled off his underwear. 

“Okay,” Bruce said, pulling his own shirt over his head. A minute later he was stepping under the spray with his hands at James’s waist. Sex had admittedly briefly - very briefly - crossed his mind, but who could blame him for noticing the defined muscle tone that could be found everywhere on James’s body. 

Bruce massaged James’s head slowly as he lathered up shampoo, and James let out a relieved-sounding exhale. 

“Is that nice?” Bruce said, allowing his mouth to turn up at the corner, if just a little, as he ran his hands through James’s hair. 

“Mmm,” James nodded, tilting his neck further to submit to Bruce’s hands.

Bruce made sure to make the shower quick, and just about five minutes later he was stepping out. He shivered from the cold himself but quickly moved to pick up a towel and wrap it around James, leading him out into the main apartment and directly towards the bathroom as he paraded about, well, naked. 

Once James was sitting on the bed Bruce took a second to jog back to the bathroom and grab a towel for himself. He dried off quickly, slipping on boxers and a t-shirt as he watched James almost fall asleep where he was sitting. 

Bruce grinned as he toweled dry James’s hair. 

James gave him an exhausted “Hey-” as he noticed Bruce deliberately mussing it up. Bruce silenced him with a quick kiss to his crown. 

James mumbled something that sounded distinctly like, 'You’re the worst,’ but Bruce pretended to ignore it, happy to convince himself that everything was normal, if only for a little bit. He held out PJ bottoms for James, which James took graciously. 

“Just tired?” Bruce asked as James flopped onto the bed. No response probably meant yes. 

Bruce picked up the towels and threw them in the hamper, and felt his heart squeezed again as he looked back at James. He’d seemingly fallen asleep on top of the covers, and Bruce wanted to smile at the endearing sight but instead a fire burned in the center of his chest as he thought about everything that had happened. He hoped Joel or Mary or whoever figured out who was responsible for this. 

Bruce crawled into bed alongside James, who snuggled back into Bruce’s hold. The classic spooning position made them both feel a little bit more in control, a little bit safer. James still felt like shit, like he was floating above his own body, but at least he was in the safest place he could be, he thought as Bruce tugged the covers up over him. 

* * *

Bruce woke to an elbow in his rib-cage. He almost groaned and rolled back over, until the previous night’s events came flashing back to him, and he scrambled the rest of the way awake. 

The room was still dark, and a glance at the blinds indicated it was probably the middle of the night. 

“N-no, lemme go,” James said, squirming, limbs flying in every direction. 

Bruce was at a loss, until a knee came dangerously close to his crotch. 

“James!” He whispered forcefully, trying to grab for his lover’s flying limbs. 

James only cried out more, fighting hard against Bruce’s hold. 

“Bruce!” James shouted in his sleep, startling Bruce long enough to get clocked in the forehead by James’s elbow. 

Bruce groaned and scooted out of the way, trying to develop a tactical plan.   
He dive-bombed James, covering as much of James with his own body as he could - it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. 

Though James still struggled, his shouts had turned into whimpers and Bruce had successfully trapped his limbs under Bruce’s own. 

“Bruce, help, please,” James begged.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re okay,” Bruce soothed. He let out a stream of comforting probably-nonsense until the whimpers settled and James’s breathing went from ragged to even. 

Bruce couldn’t sleep after that, even after he rolled off James. He could only watch James with careful eyes, wary of the expression he wore in his sleep. It wasn’t hard to imagine what James’s nightmare had been about, and while Bruce was pleased, to be very honest, that if James was going to cry out, it was for Bruce, he still hoped this would be a one-time thing and leave his carefree boyfriend unchanged.

* * *

Bruce called into his own work and James’s the next day, having been updated by Queen Mary over text that the symptoms and after-affects would probably last at least another day, if not one or two more. James had rolled out of bed and immediately stumbled into the bathroom to throw up, making Bruce cringe from the kitchen where he was making up breakfast. 

James walked into the kitchen like a zombie, plunking down at a chair without a word. His hair was sleep-mussed but the adorable-ness was belayed by the dark circles under his eyes. 

“How you doin’, sleepyhead?” 

“Mmmf,” James sighed, eyes still closed. After a second they popped open, though. 

“Bruce?” 

“Yeah?” Bruce said, glancing over his shoulder at James from where he was working at the stove. 

“Thank you,” James said, pouring his heart into the simple phrase. Bruce fully turned at that, looking over his boyfriend. 

He crossed the kitchen in a couple strides and bent over to James’s level, cupping James’s chin and bringing their lips together. The kiss was soft, and James still smelled like body wash and home. There was something easy and natural about it, something new that only the level of care Bruce had shown James could bring to a relationship. 

The kiss lasted until the smell of burning pancakes hit Bruce’s nostrils. 

“Wow, nice work, Emeril,” James said, and while Bruce could hear the exhaustion in his voice, that was the sarcastic, witty boyfriend he’d been afraid of losing the night before. 

“Fuck you,” was Bruce’s only reply, and the laugh he got out of James was worth the wasted pancake batter.

_Got a little soul_  
_The world is a cold, cold place to be_  
_Want a little warmth  
_ _But who’s gonna save a little warmth for me?_


End file.
